You are out of the way of temptation and out of the way of the tempter - I didn't mean to make you wicked - but I was - and am - and shall be - and I was with you so much that I couldn't help contaminate.

I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf

We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.

I would like more sisters, that the taking out of one, might not leave such stillness.

I miss the grasshoppers much, but suppose it is all for the best. I should become too much attached to a trotting world.

The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.

Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.